


Fine Line (We'll be Alright)

by moonygirl76



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Jealous Stiles Stilinski, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Werewolf Mates, everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonygirl76/pseuds/moonygirl76
Summary: An old family friend from a New York pack asks Derek to pretend to be her Fiance to dissuade another pack from pressuring her into marriage with their son. Stiles is fine with that. Fine. Totally fine. No worries.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 371
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Fine Line (We'll be Alright)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Fine Line" by Harry Styles. 
> 
> My muse was difficult and cranky in 2020. Like and comment for good luck happy muse in 2021. Thank you for reading!

Fine Line (We'll be Alright)

Stiles is downright giddy. He may have forgotten to take his Ritalin this morning, but that has nothing to do with anything. He smiles as he takes his receipt from the cashier. He hums to himself as he bags his groceries. There is a spring in his step as he loads the bags into his Jeep. Giddy. In love and on a mission. Operation Home Cooked meal. Seriously? Derek is the bestest of werewolf boyfriends. Well, best of any boyfriends, Stiles is pretty sure, but especially because Derek told him that as a Were, he feels a need to provide for Stiles. I.E. cook amazing meals and make sure Stiles remembers to wear a coat when it rains and sleeps instead of researching fantastic supernatural beasts all night, even though that was ONCE and he generally, usually doesn’t need a reminder to sleep. Mostly. 

So. Derek is always doing the providing and protecting and just generally being awesome and hot and amazing etc, etc, etc. So, since Stiles doesn’t have any classes tomorrow and he is going to surprise Derek by coming over to the loft with all the groceries and his Googled recipe for triple meat lasagna. Because . . . Were. And meat. Right? Winner. 

Stiles parks his Jeep in his usual spot. Hopping out he sings a tune under his breath and grabs the one, two three, bags of groceries out of the back. One of the paper bags rips right away, because of course, but Stiles just re-adjusts his grip to support the bottom of the bag and ploughs on. In the elevator, he precariously hits the button with this elbow and congratulates himself of not dropping anything or everything. 

Getting out of the elevator, Stiles again juggles the weight of the three bags and makes his way to the sliding door of Derek’s loft. He waits. Derek surely heard him coming. He waits. Or not.  
Stiles lifts his right foot and uses it to hook into the handle of the door and pull, the door, thankfully unlocked, starts to slide but then Stiles realizes that his foot is a little stuck and as he pulls he starts to over balance and tip backwards, bends his leg to counter balance and then when his foot slips free literally falls face first into the loft. Limbs and bags akimbo. 

“I got it!” he yells. “It’s fine!” as he scrambles for the box of noodles, can of tomatoes, fresh basil--that will have to be washed anyway--it’s fine! Out of his periphery he sees movement of who he thinks must be Derek handing him a that rollaway eggplant and looks up to see that instead of the green-eyed, scruffed face of his boyfriend is a blonde, blue-eyed, face of a very attractive woman. 

Stiles flinches back and drops the fallen ingredients again. 

“What--? Who?” he eloquently asks. 

The unknown woman blushes prettily. 

“Stiles!” Derek rushes over and his hands are on him. “Are you okay?” 

Stiles looks back and forth between Derek and the woman. Uncharacteristically, lost for words. 

“I’m fine,” he finally says, finding his voice. 

“I was just trying to call you. I think your phone is dead,” Derek says, as he effortlessly lifts Stiles back to his feet and starts to pick up the groceries. 

“Yeah. Might’ve-- I wasn’t. It was--” Get it together, Stiles tells himself. This is Derek’s loft, you are his boyfriend. Nothing shady about this. We have a guest. “I’m Stiles,” he finally says, coherently, reaching a hand toward the stranger.

She smiles warmly and shakes his hand. 

“Sorry,” Derek breaks in. “This is Rebecca Hager from the Hager Pack in New York. Rebecca, this is Stiles, my boyfriend and abuser of groceries.”

“Yup.” Stiles nods aggressively. That’s right. Boyfriend. Right here. The Boyfriend of Derek. Stiles realizes he’s clutching a pack of Italian sausage and tosses it down on the counter. 

They all kind of chuckle uncomfortably and Rebecca finally speaks up. “It’s so nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m sorry for the impromptu visit.”

A Were, beautiful, voice of an angel, and uses words like “impromptu.” Stiles takes a step toward Derek. For no reason. 

“What brings you to humble Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks, setting his hand on Derek’s back. Also, for no reason at all. Derek returns the favor, though probably more of a noble reason of comforting Stiles whose heartbeat had to be off the charts. For no reason. 

“I’ve been attending college here in California for the last three years. Though why I am here specifically in Beacon his because I have a favor to ask of Derek.”

Three hours Later

Stiles shoves a forkful of piping hot lasagna past his lips, immediately scalding the roof of his mouth. 

“Stiles--” Derek starts.

Stiles waves him off, chugging his milk. “It’s fine,” it comes out a strangled and garbled. He clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

“We need to talk about Rebecca’s request,” Derek says. 

“You mean her . . . proposition?” Stiles asks, and immediately feels bad from the look on Derek’s face. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Apparently, Rebecca is from a very large, old, prominent pack that is all important and steeped in tradition. Apparently also, Rebecca is getting heat from another Alpha and Omega in New York to marry their son, Roderick, thus joining the two packs. Mutually beneficial and all that. Except for, you know, the lack of love and all that. Rebecca proposed Derek stand in and meet Roderick and his family, pretending to be her fiancé and appear very much in love and therefore rendering Rebecca off the table, or market, so to speak. 

“Her mother was really close to my parents,” Derek says, taking a sip of his wine. 

“Um-hmm,” Stiles says, blowing on his next bite of lasagna. He nods again. He is Supportive. And Mature. And not at all jealous or petty, though he did not invite Rebecca to stay for lasagna. Only because he wasn’t sure he had enough for two Weres and a Stiles. She would have to make do with the In-and-Out Burger by her hotel. Oh well. 

Derek pauses, taking a bite of his lasagna and not burning himself somehow. “This is really good,” he says, after swallowing. 

“Thank you,” Stiles answers, like everything is normal, like he doesn’t feel as if he is about to lose everything. Which is ridiculous. Everything is fine. He chews and waits for Derek to continue. 

“Her family took Laura and I in when we arrived in New York. I kind of owe them. But if you aren’t comfortable with the favor--”

“No. I’m extremely comfortable. I’m at ease. I’m at my leisure,” Stiles says. 

Derek responds with an eyebrow raise.

“Well, maybe not. But I can be. I will be. I am a supportive boyfriend!” he does a quick gesture with his hands to emphasize this idea and knocks over his milk. Derek and Stiles work together and sop up the liquid from around their plates. “Everything is fine,” Stiles repeats. More to himself than to Derek. 

One week later

Stiles sits on the couch at the pack house waiting for Roderick and his parents to arrive. His knee is bouncing, and he can’t seem to get it to stop. The front door opens, and Stiles jumps to his feet even though part of his brain knows that Roderick and his family wouldn’t come in without knocking. It’s just Scott. Stiles sits back down. His knee begins to bounce again. 

Lydia and Isaac are in the kitchen finishing up the cooking and setting out drinks, and Derek is somewhere with Rebecca, alone, getting dressed. Implying, in Stile’s mind, that at some point they were undressed, but Stiles is not thinking about that. At all. 

“Dude,” Scott is next to him. Stiles flinches bodily. “You need to calm down. You reek of panic and despair.”

“Really? What does panic and despair smell like, Scottie?” Stiles asks. 

“Sour milk and throw up.” Scott pats him roughly on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll get you a drink to calm you down. Beer?”

Stiles is about to answer when he is distracted by Derek and Rebecca descending the stairs together. Stiles tries to suppress the whimper at seeing Derek. Stiles hasn’t touched or been touched by Derek in seven days to reduce the usual scent of being all up in that. He hasn’t even really seen Derek. Derek’s been busy. With Rebecca. And well, Stiles has also been supremely busy. With school, and work, and not being around Derek and Rebecca. 

Derek looks like a God, and beside him Rebecca looks like a Goddess. Are they wearing coordinating outfits? They are. The subtle color matching makes them look like a set. That was no-doubt the work of Lydia. Stiles will need to kill Lydia. He makes an involuntary sound like he’s choking. 

“Holy crap she’s gorgeous,” Scott says next to him. Stiles glares at him with the heat of a thousand suns. He will have to kill Scott as well. First. He’ll kill Scott first. 

“Whiskey it is,” Scott says, nodding, and heads toward the kitchen. 

Derek’s gaze finds Stiles and makes a beeline for him. “Are you alright?” He lifts his hand to touch Stiles, and then, thinking better of it, let’s his hand drop. 

“Yup,” Stiles says, letting the ‘p’ pop and ignoring the pain in his chest. “I’m fine,” he says wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

Scott returns with the glass of whiskey and Stiles shoots the whole thing and hands the glass back to Scott. “Another,” he says, not taking his eyes off Derek. 

Derek swallows. “Pup?” he asks softly. In a voice that’s only used with Stiles. Stiles wants to lean into it. He wants to lean into Derek. “We could-- ?” but Isaac’s voice calls out before Derek can finish. “Car coming up the drive.”

Scott hands Stiles another whiskey, a double and he shoots this one too and sets it on the coaster on the coffee table. He takes a deep breath. It’s all pretend, he reminds himself. Derek could have a pretty woman if he wanted, he has had pretty, and arguably psychotic, women in the past. But he chose Stiles. This isn’t even about Derek, this is just about Rebecca. Helping out a family friend. Nothing more. 

Everything is fine. 

Derek comes through to the main room with a couple who radiate power and a young man who looks entirely too young to be Rebecca’s potential suitor. Derek clears his throat. 

“This is Alpha Charles Hager, and his wife, Omega Pamela, and their son, Beta Thomas.” Derek then introduces each of the pack by name and title, including Stiles, who he introduces as his Emissary without even a shake or stutter to his voice. 

Stiles is confused. They were told it would be Roderick and his parents. If Derek is also confused, he doesn’t show it, or just goes with it. 

Drinks are passed out and small talk is made, until Rebecca herself suggests that they go ahead and sit at the dining room table. 

It’s Lydia who speaks up next. “Aren’t we waiting for the rest?”

“I told Roderick and his parents that there was no need for them to travel this far. The decision was made, and they would need to make other arrangements,” Alpha Charles replies.

The whole pack breathes a collective sigh of relief, including Stiles whom thanks to the whiskey, is generally feeling much better. Looser. If a tiny bit sloppy. No one needs to know that, though. 

They congregate around the dining room table and dig into the enormous roast and assorted sides that Lydia and Isaac prepared. When everyone is served and well into their meal, Omega Pamela speaks up. 

“Derek your mother was a dear, dear friend of mine. From when we were children, learning to shift under the full moon during summers on my Grandparents land in Upstate New York.” Derek nods, no doubt having heard the stories. “Her greatest wish for you was to see you settled. To see you with a promising match and a brood of your own.” Everyone around the table seem to still. “Rebecca has told me of her feelings for you, and nothing could give me more pleasure knowing of your shared history growing up, and the history of our families.”

Stiles glances at Rebecca who was beaming, with a dangerous glint in her eye. 

“You’ll have beautiful children to be sure. And such a boon to match an Alpha and an Omega,” Pamela’s husband, Charles, pipes up from across from his Omega. “Only an Alpha and Omega can make true mates. So much dilution these days with Alpha’s marrying Alpha’s or other such abominations.”

“Like cousin Jarod marrying a human man,” Rebecca adds, casually. 

Alpha Charles rolls his eyes. And waves his cutlery. “That’s what I mean. It is an Alpha’s duty to find their Were mate. A true pairing, in the eyes of nature and God, can only be Alpha/Omega. To bring pups! To further the line! Your mother believed in this,” Charles says, turning to Derek who looks like he might be ill. 

“She did?” Derek asks in a small voice.

“Of course, she did. Family above all. Which is why it was so devastating that the whole family was lost the way they were. The Hale name is on the verge of extinction, young man. You are so lucky Rebecca has reunited with you.”

Stiles, stuck dumb, watches as Rebecca reaches out a hand, as if in slow motion, at least slow enough where there is time for Stiles entire relationship with Derek to flashes before his eyes. Holding Derek up in the pool for hours, paralyzed with Derek from the Kanima venom, their first kiss, his father threatening, then embracing Derek after learning about their relationship. Her hand encircles Derek’s and Stiles blinks twice to be sure he is not imagining it, Derek squeezes back. 

Is this an act? Is this a part of the plot/change in the scheme that Stiles isn’t aware of? Beside him, Scott’s mouth hangs open and Lydia keeps looking nervously between Stiles and Derek, also seeming to be trying to figure out what was going on. Isaac has abandoned all pretense and just looks like he is going to flee from all the tension in the room. Rebecca’s brother is the only one still eating, the only one who seems unbothered. Apathetic.

Stiles is ready to rage, or he should be. Curious enough, it isn’t anger that is filling his chest. It’s a sad and cold resignation. Maybe Derek did deserve a true pairing. Family is the most important thing to Derek. And here was his chance to rebuild that. What does Stiles offer compared to that: His wit? His vast knowledge on Wendigos? Or ability to make mediocre lasagne? Derek deserved a true mate and a family of his own. Who was Stiles to stand in his way?

So as Omega Pamala raises her glass to toast the happy couple Stiles finds himself on his feet. The sudden sway, from the traitorous whiskey, impedes his swift exit and all the faces at the table turn to look at him. Stiles is pleased to see that only Rebecca and her father have joined the Omega in raising the toast. The rest of the pack seems upset, if their faces were anything to go by, and Derek himself looks lost and confused. 

Instead of leaving, Stiles grabs his wine glass, and raises it. “To Derek.” Derek looks up, green eyes wide and vulnerable. “Amazing and capable regardless of status. Thoughtful, protective, and loving. Best mate anyone could hope to have.”

He’s about to drink when Derek himself stands. He’s no longer holding Rebecca’s hand, but his own glass. Stiles can see that his hand is shaking. “To Stiles.” Everyone at the table starts to shift. Shift, as in fidget restlessly in their chairs, but Stiles thinks he sees the tell-tale sign of extra claw and tooth in Rebecca, and her eyes flash gold in Stiles’s direction. “To Stiles,” Derek repeats, stronger now. “The heart of the Hale pack. Best mate anyone could ask for regardless if he is human, Were or Abominable Snowman.” Stiles feels the cold resignation in his chest thaw. “To Stiles. My mate for life.”

Derek takes his time with Stiles that night. Stiles is sure he has beard burn over every inch of his body and it is wonderful. Derek has already rung out a record three orgasms from Stiles, and still kisses him languidly, touching him with reverence, fingers tracing the many marks he’s left on Stiles’s neck and chest. 

Stiles laughs suddenly, thinking of the looks on the Hager’s faces when Derek blatantly and suddenly proclaimed Stiles his mate. “What?” Derek asks, lifting his face from where he is darkening up one of Stiles’s hickeys with blunt teeth. “You weren’t very subtle with them,” Stiles responds.

“They deserved it. Their presumption and bigotry were appalling. For all we know this ‘Roderick’ was just a part of Rebecca’s ploy. She always was a little schemer,” Derek says. 

“You’re not worried that you burned a bridge with your mom’s friend?” Stiles asks. 

“She’s the one that should be worried. And embarrassed, frankly.”

“Hmmm,” Stiles says, thinking of some of the things the Alpha said, while trying not to think about what he said while Derek licks his abs. “Do you really think we’re mates?” he asks Derek. 

Derek looks him in the eye, flashing red and then back to warm green. He places a hand over Stiles’s heart. “Do you feel that, pup?” he asks, his voice low. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answers back. He does. From his heart radiating all the way out to the tips of his fingers and toes and the roots of his hair. The warmth of the love, the click of rightness. 

“Mate,” Derek says, his voice rumbling. 

Stiles’s breath hitches and he has to clear the emotion from his throat. “Mate.”


End file.
